


a little blue

by heartsfilthylesson



Category: Carol (2015), The Price of Salt - Patricia Highsmith
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-15
Updated: 2016-01-15
Packaged: 2018-05-14 03:17:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5727694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartsfilthylesson/pseuds/heartsfilthylesson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Therese squeezed her hand once and Carol felt like she could breathe again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a little blue

**Author's Note:**

> a tumblr askbox ficlet for the prompt "a moment's respite."

There was a bottle of rye in the back of a cupboard, a misplaced thing tucked away amid neatly stacked saucers and rows of dainty teacups. It put her in a mood, Therese had told her once, inconstant and blue like flickering lights or early spring weather. But she deserved to be a little blue tonight. **  
**

It was Rindy’s birthday. Harge’s parents organised a pleasant little party for her –soft pink and pale yellow streamers and balloons, ice-cold lemonade and overly sweet cake. She was too old for clowns and party games now but too young for much else. Rindy seemed to like it, seemed very happy among her friends and family until it was time for Carol to leave.

“You’re home,” said Therese, delight and surprise brightening her eyes. She still believed one day Carol would run out to the shop or to visit a friend and never return, that whatever they had made for themselves would disappear like motes of dust. Sometimes Carol believed that too.

A sudden weariness covered her like a mantle. It went past the stringy muscles of her shoulder and past the bones and through to the marrow. “Yes, darling.” Carol swirled the rye in the glass and realised she forgot the ice cubes.

“How did it go?”

She could have told Therese that it was absolutely dreadful: eyes digging like daggers into her flesh, her strength and her resolve seeping out like blood from an open wound, the oppressive sting of unshed tears. She could have told Therese everything.

“Not too terribly, darling,” Carol said with a smile she hoped wasn’t too watery. “It was a beautiful day.”

She looked like she wanted to say something particularly important but couldn’t. Carol was glad for that. “I hope Rindy’s doing well,” she said finally.

“She is.” Carol reached for Therese’s hand. Its warmth percolated through to her, like the rye spreading hotly from her belly to her limbs. Her words were breathless, like she had been underwater too long, or simply drowning under the weight of hatred and spite. “Rindy’s doing very well.”

Therese squeezed her hand once and Carol felt like she could breathe again.


End file.
